Charlotte ran.
She fled across the football field, her legs pumping, her lungs burning, her heart threatening to burst from her chest.
Behind her, the parents followed. Not running, but moving with a strange movement that was somehow more terrifying than speed.
"Leave me alone!" She screamed. "I didn't do anything! Please, you have to believe me!"
"We'll get you!"
The voices followed her, whispering now, deathly and cold.
"We'll get our revenge!"
"You're the one who caused their deaths!"
"We'll bury you alongside them!"
The football field dissolved around her.
Now she was running through a cemetery, ancient headstones tilting at drunken angles, dead trees reaching toward the crimson sky.
And in the center of the cemetery, freshly dug and waiting, was a grave.
She could read the name on the headstone.
Her name.
Charlotte.
She screamed and ran faster.
